


Hold 'Em

by Andromache_42



Series: My SPN ABO Bingo 2018 [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Benny Lafitte, Beta Gabriel (Supernatural), Castiel is 18, Dean is 23, Hand Jobs, M/M, Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Porn With Plot, Recreational Drug Use, Scenting, Strip Poker, Underage Drinking, but still in high school, slick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15438009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromache_42/pseuds/Andromache_42
Summary: Gabriel is determined to get Castiel out of the house and help him make friends. So Gabriel introduces him to his own. When the electricity goes out, though, it's Gabriel's bright idea to introduce a game of strip poker. Except, for Castiel and his new friend Dean Winchester, things get a little up close and personal . . .Written for SPN ABO Bingo; square filled "Strip Poker"





	Hold 'Em

**Author's Note:**

> Bingo square three filled! Honestly, I didn't set out to write smut, but here we are . . . .
> 
> **Warning (spoiler): Dean knows Castiel is 18, but isn't aware he's still in high school until the end.

“You need to make friends, Cassie.”

Castiel glares at Gabriel over the top of his book. “I have friends.”

Gabriel snorts. “Imaginary ones don’t count. C’mon, dorkface, we’re going out.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and settles back into his bed, propping _Grapes of Wrath_ up on his knees. They have a quiz on the next section of chapters in English tomorrow, and, yeah, okay, Castiel read it already, but a thorough re-read is essential to retention—

“Cas, you have an eidetic memory,” Gabriel chides. He pauses for a moment, locked in a staring contest with his little brother (which Castiel will inevitably win).

“That is significantly less reliable with text than images.”

“You scored a 34 on your ACT, Castiel. Colleges won’t care if you remember anything about the Joads.”

“ _You_ clearly remember. Besides, why would your friends want to hang out with a high school senior?”

“You can fetch our beer.”

“Mom and Dad will hate it.”

Gabriel tosses Castiel a pair of jeans from the drawer closest to the door. “That’s the spirit! C’mon, get dressed and put your book away. You’re gonna come meet my friends.”

Castiel still isn’t sure what persuaded him to tag along with Gabriel, but here he is, trailing behind his big brother up the stairs to a fifth-floor walk-up apartment close to the university campus. He didn’t know what he expected, but the building is clean, if a bit run down, and clearly open to diverse residents. The hallways smell mostly like industrial strength scent blocking cleaner, so it’s difficult to tell whether alphas, betas, or omegas live behind each door. Castiel’s newly-presented omega nose is sensitive, picking up sharp notes of individual scents as they move past each apartment.

The world is overwhelming for a new omega, something his beta brother Gabriel can’t really understand. That’s one of the reasons why Castiel has become such a homebody in the last few months.

Abruptly, Gabriel stops in front of one of the apartment doors at the end of the long hallway and knocks. Castiel scents subtly at the air, though stops when Gabriel raises an eyebrow at him.

There’s a brief scuffle behind the door, then a moment of silence before it’s yanked open. Castiel cringes back a bit at the strong scent of _alpha_ that wafts into the hallway.

“Samson!” Gabriel cries, grinning at the enormous alpha youth standing in the doorway. He’s all arms and legs, nearly a foot taller than Gabriel, with floppy brown hair and a kind face.

“Hey, Gabe! You brought a friend?”

“Oh, this? He’s just my little brother, Cassie. He insisted on coming along. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

Castiel glares at Gabriel. “That’s hardly how it happened.”

Sam laughs, holding his hand out for Castiel to shake. “I’m Sam. It’s nice to meet you, Cassie.”

“It’s Castiel,” he corrects. Sam laughs again, tossing his long hair back, gesturing them inside.

“Big brothers, huh? Yeah, I get it. I’m _Sam_ , but my ass of a big brother insists on calling me—”

“Yo, Sammy!” a voice calls from further into the apartment. “Want a beer?”

Sam grimaces. “Sammy,” he finishes. Castiel smiles at him in solidarity.

While Sam shows Castiel around the apartment, Gabriel makes a beeline for what is probably the kitchen, clearly comfortable in the space. As Sam leads him around, Castiel begins to relax. The apartment is clearly shared by several males, testosterone thick in their collective scent soaking all of the soft surfaces, but it isn’t oppressive, and Sam is probably the least threatening alpha Castiel has ever encountered. His notes in the shared scent are the lighter ones; they remind Castiel of sea breezes and afternoon sunshine. Castiel wonders if Sam puts everyone at ease as readily as he’s made Castiel.

The apartment is small; there’s a communal living space dominated by an enormous brown sofa and large flat-screen television, a surprisingly roomy kitchen, and a hallway with four doors. Sam explains that there’s only the one bathroom, the door on the immediate left, but then there’s a bedroom each for himself, his big brother Dean, and their beta roommate Benny.

“And you’re all students?” Castiel asks as they make their way back to the living room. Sam stops by the kitchen to grab a beer, offering one to Castiel, who declines.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam says, moving over to the sofa. Castiel takes a moment to wonder where the other guys have gone to; they didn’t run into them on their tour, and they aren’t sitting in the living room. Sam settles his long limbs into a corner of the couch, while Castiel perches on the opposite end. “Well, I am. I’m majoring in psych, that’s how I know Gabe. We’re in the same year, same advisor. Benny’s in business; restaurant management’s his thing.”

“And Dean?” Castiel prompts. Sam fidgets, picking at the label on his beer.

“He, uh . . . he didn’t finish the semester,” Sam says awkwardly.

“Oh.”

“He’s in mechanical engineering. That shit’s hard! And he’s really only got one more class to graduate, he’s gonna do that in the summer—"

Sam’s rambling is interrupted by a door opening down the hallway, followed by a chorus of laughter and the missing guys. Castiel immediately tenses as the rowdy group rambles into the living room. Gabe lands on the couch next to Castiel, the sweet, musky smell of weed wafting from him. Ah, so that’s where they were.

“Dude, maybe take it easy,” Sam says to one of his roommates. He’s clearly a little tipsy, laughing and leaning against the arm of the couch next to Sam. “Jeez, Dean, we have guests.”

Dean, then. Sam’s older brother. He giggles for a moment, then looks up and manages to make eye contact with Castiel. Despite Dean’s obviously inebriated condition, Castiel can’t help but stare.

Objectively, Dean is beautiful. He’s clearly older than Sam, but he still has youthful, boyish features that are sparkling with laughter. His eyes are red-rimmed, likely from the weed, but they’re wide when they stare openly back at Castiel. He’s handsome, and freckled, and joyful, and Castiel’s heart beats just a little faster.

“Hey,” Dean says, grinning wide. “You must be Cassie.”

Castiel blushes all the way up to his hairline. “It’s Castiel,” he manages. Dean just continues to smile.

“Nice to meet ya, Cas. I’m Dean.”

“And I’m Benny,” comes from Castiel’s side, where a giant bear of a beta stands, paw extended to shake Castiel’s hand. Benny seems a little more sober than Dean, though his scent is covered by the same smell of smoke coming from Gabriel. Castiel shakes Benny’s hand stiffly. Gabriel groans from beside him.

“Okay, cool, everybody’s met Cassie. Can we just fuckin’ . . . do something _fun_ already?”

Dean moves over to the entertainment cabinet beside the flat screen and fiddles with a stereo. Soon, classic rock is playing at a moderate volume through the speakers before the TV comes to life and Dean tosses game controllers to Gabe, Benny, and Sam.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean says, settling on the arm of the couch next to his brother. “You can play winner?”

Castiel opens his mouth to say that it’s okay, he doesn’t need to play, but then suddenly one of the Halo iterations boots up on the screen and it’s like Castiel ceases to exist.

Somewhere around the fourth round of the other guys trying to shoot each other with more and more creative weaponry, Gabriel convinces Castiel to drink a beer. It’s hardly his first one, but it still feels strange to sit in an unfamiliar apartment and impair his judgement.

Castiel manages to relax as the evening goes on (though he never does get to play a round of the video game), when suddenly the apartment is plunged into darkness.

“Well, fuck,” Gabe says.

“Dean, did you forget to pay the electric bill again?” Sam asks.

“No, smart-ass, I totally paid it. On _time_.”

“Looks like the whole block is out,” Benny says from the window, where Castiel can just make out his shape with the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

“Great,” Gabe groans. “What’re we gonna do now?”

“We could just go home—” Castiel begins, but—

“Strip poker!” Gabe exclaims.

“What?” asks Sam. “That’s a really stupid idea.”

“No, it’s cool! The lights are out, we won’t even be able to see anything!”

“Then how do you know if someone is cheating, genius?”

“We light candles, then! C’mon, guys, this is awesome!”

“Okay.”

Dean’s voice cuts through Sam and Gabriel’s argument. “I’m down,” he says. Castiel can’t see him in the dark, but the idea of removing clothing in the same room as Dean . . .

“Come on, Cassie, don’t be a chicken,” Gabriel says, catching a hint of his growing discomfort in his scent. The weed smell from earlier is dissipating, and it’s getting easier for Castiel to pick up on his brother’s own scent again. It’s relaxed, comforting, but there’s a little bit of an edge that Castiel can’t quite work out. He can’t see Gabriel’s face, but he knows the exact expression that his brother is making, and it’s the same one that his resolve crumples under on a regular basis.

“Fine,” Castiel says, and then Gabriel is off like a shot, the sound of him bumping into walls and cursing wafting from down the hallway.

“I’d better help him,” Sam says, making his own way down the hallway. “I’m assuming he went to get candles.”

“I will say, you’re all idiots,” Benny says, clicking on a small flashlight that hangs from his keyring. “I’m going to bed. See ya in the mornin’, Dean. It was nice to meet ya, Cas.”

Then Benny heads down the hallway, leaving Dean and Castiel alone. Dean brings up the flashlight app on his phone, illuminating the space a little.

Now that the weed smell has dissipated, Castiel can smell what must be Dean’s scent. It’s definitely masculine, musky, like dark chocolate and motor oil. He’s the heavier notes in the apartment’s ambient scent, and it’s just as alluring as his appearance. Castiel blushes, his thoughts wandering somewhere far from appropriate while standing alone in the dark with this stranger.

Still, though, he’s eighteen and still newly presented. He can’t help the tiny trickle of slick that drips from his hole. He doesn’t think Dean notices; it’s dark, though, and Dean’s slight nostril flare could be completely unrelated.

Thankfully, Gabriel and Sam return with armfuls of candles of all shapes and sizes. Dean raises an eyebrow.

“Where the hell did you get those?” he demands.

“From your room,” Sam says with a wink. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Whoa, hey, mixed company!” Gabriel declares, mockingly covering Castiel’s ears. “Tender omega ears here.”

“Says the guy who suggested _strip poker_ ,” Sam retorts.

“How old are you, anyway, kid?”

The question is almost condescending in Dean’s baritone. Castiel narrows his eyes. “I’m eighteen.”

“Dude, seriously?”

“Cassie’s fine. He’s mature for his age.”

But Dean doesn’t stop glaring at Castiel. It starts to make him uncomfortable, but he’s unable to break eye contact. Eventually, Sam clears his throat.

“All righty-o!” Gabriel announces merrily. “The game is Texas Hold ‘Em. You lose articles of clothing for losing _only_. Folding saves you for now, but I reserve the right to change the rules at any time!”

“You sure know those rules really well.”

“What can I say, I’m a fun guy.”

He has Dean shuffle and deal, trading in cards and laying out the three cards that they’re supposed to play their hands off of. Castiel follows along as best he can, but he ends up folding in the first round just to be safe. When Sam and Dean face off, Dean wins with a straight, so Sam loses his sock.

“C’mon, Samson, show us the goods!” Gabriel says. Sam rolls his eyes, but Castiel thinks he sees a little bit of a blush on Sam’s cheeks. Interesting.

It turns out that Castiel is _good_ at poker. He manages to make it through five whole hands without losing a single article of clothing. At this point, Sam has shed his other sock and his shirt, Dean has lost his socks and his jacket, and Gabriel is sitting at the table in his boxers.

“What?” he asks when Sam confronts him. “I’m terrible at poker.”

But Castiel hasn’t lost a single article of clothing. Gabriel deals the next hand with a leer.

“All right, boys. Now it gets interesting. Folding is no longer safe. If you fold, you lose something, too!”

“Gross, Gabe,” Dean scoffs. “You just want to be naked in my living room.”

“I could be naked somewhere else,” Gabe replies, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam, who is _definitely_ blushing now.

Oh. Castiel squints at Gabriel. “Did you bring me here simply so you could have intercourse with Sam?” he asks. Sam chokes on the beer he was drinking, showering Dean who leaps from his seat and yelps.

“Dude, _seriously_?!”

At first Castiel thinks that Dean’s outburst is because his brother just spat beer all over him, but then the salty, sharp scent of alpha arousal mixed with Sam’s natural pheromones rolls across the table. Dean gags and presses his hand over his mouth and nose.

“Ugh, gross, get the fuck out of here, god!”

Gabriel snickers, winking at Sam before standing and taking off down the hallway. Sam looks like he’s fighting the alpha instinct to _chase_ , but then he finally gives in and tears after Gabriel, leaving nothing but his scent behind.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Dean grumbles. “Great, now I’ve gotta babysit the kid.”

Castiel glares at Dean. “I’m not a kid.”

Dean looks over and regards him for a moment. The longer he looks, the more Castiel feels like he’s being _examined_ , and a chill runs down his spine.

“Yeah,” Dean says, but there’s something strange in it. “You kind of are.”

Castiel scoops up the cards and shuffles. “Wanna keep playing?” he challenges. Dean arches an eyebrow.

“I could just take you home, kid.”

“I am _not_ ,” he slams the deck down on the table. “A _kid_.”

Turns out Dean was maybe holding back, or maybe he just has a read on Castiel now. Despite reinstating the folding-is-safe rule, Castiel quickly loses both socks and his own jacket, while Dean simply has to remove his shirt.

That in and of itself is distracting, as Castiel smiles in triumph over his winning hand, sweeping the cards together into a pile. But, then, Dean is smirking and standing behind the table. He continues to stare at Castiel, but he reaches down with both hands and slowly grasps the hem of his shirt. He makes sure Castiel is watching before slightly raising the hem to reveal the tiniest strip of smooth skin underneath. Castiel is mesmerized; he couldn’t look away if he wanted to while Dean ever-so-slowly raises both hands, revealing inch by inch of tan, muscular abdominals dotted with freckles. He crosses his arms over each other, pulls it up a bit more showing off a pair of perky, rosy nipples and tight pectorals before taking the shirt up and over his head and tossing it aside. Castiel shifts uncomfortably, his hole getting suddenly, instantly slick by virtue of his age. He manages to clench and get it under control, but not before he sees Dean’s grin widen even more. Castiel glares, pushing the cards to Dean.

“Your deal,” he says. Dean winks.

When Dean wins the next hand, Castiel considers attempting to tease Dean the same way, but abandons it in favor of simply removing his shirt perfunctorily. Dean whistles and catcalls quietly, but Castiel also catches the shrewd way that Dean’s eyes scan Castiel’s fit shoulders and firm stomach.

Castiel folds for the next two hands until he finally ends up with a pair of queens that lead to Dean losing his jeans. He expects a strip tease like before, but Dean simply shucks his pants without even moving so Castiel can see him. Castiel’s frustration must waft through the air to Dean, because the alpha grins like the cat that caught the canary.

“Something wrong?” he asks innocently. Castiel responds by dealing the next hand.

Castiel gets another excellent hand (a full house with two cards in the flop), but he must be overeager because Dean makes a big show of sniffing the air before folding.

“Don’t get too excited,” Dean says, shuffling and dealing.

When Dean wins, Castiel has already resolved that two can play his game. As Dean sweeps the cards together, nothing is betrayed in his scent, but Castiel watches Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between him and the deck. So, Castiel takes a deep breath and stands beside the table.

In truth, he has no idea what he’s doing, but Dean takes in a sharp breath when Castiel places his thumbs in his own waistband. The flickering candlelight around them illuminates him enough that Dean can watch as he teases himself with his thumbs, first dipping in deep, then moving to the front where he flicks open the button. Dean’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, his hands flat on his thighs while he watches Castiel openly.

Castiel drags the zipper down slowly, the teeth releasing his rapidly filling cock. He tries to surreptitiously press the heel of his hand against it, but when he does Dean’s eyes flash up to meet Castiel’s, and Castiel knows he’s been caught.

Castiel catches his lip in his teeth, then turns around and arches his back, pressing his ass toward Dean. Ever so slowly, he slides his waistband down over the curve of his ass, one deliberate inch at a time. He can tell the moment that the wet patch on his underwear is revealed, both from the cool air hitting it and Dean’s audible intake of breath. Castiel takes a deep breath, then bends over, taking his jeans all the way to the floor, then stepping out of them before rolling back up. He turns around and sits down again as though nothing happened, but the dark chocolate notes of Dean’s scent are blossoming as his alpha arousal fills the room.

Once he’s seated, Castiel chances a glance up at Dean and his face flushes. Even in the low light, Castiel can see that Dean’s irises are rimmed in alpha red, and he’s staring at Castiel like he’d like to eat him. Castiel pulls his own lip back between his teeth, then looks up at Dean from under his eyelashes like he’s seen omegas do on TV and in porn. Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs with the force of his swallow.

“Your deal, _alpha_ ,” Castiel says, and suddenly a deep growl erupts from Dean. Castiel jumps back, but Dean clears his throat and reaches for the cards.

They’re both being cautious, now, not playing any risky hands. Castiel’s starting to get more and more nervous with each passing hand. What happens if he loses and ends up naked? What happens if _Dean_ loses and then _Dean_ ends up naked? His palms are sweaty as he holds the cards, his heart racing with anticipation with each passing hand.

And then, it happens. Castiel had a good hand, a full house, but Dean ended up, impossibly, with a royal flush.

Dean doesn’t say anything, just lays down his cards and raises his eyebrow. Castiel’s mouth is suddenly very dry. He stands, fingers on the waistband of his boxers, still damp from both his slick and his steadily dripping cock, but hesitates.

“Hey.”

Castiel looks up, and Dean is looking at him, gaze soft. “You don’t have to, you know,” he says kindly. And Castiel knows he means it, completely unpatronizing, but Castiel _wants_ to, he wants this beautiful alpha with the gorgeous scent to see him. He opens his mouth to say so, but nothing comes out. Dean seems to understand.

“Come here?” he asks gently, reaching out a hand. Castiel walks carefully toward him, standing close. Dean slides his hand over Castiel’s elbow, and Castiel shivers at the contact. “You’re beautiful,” Dean says. Castiel blinks up at him, shaking his head.

“No,” he manages. “No, _you’re_ beautiful.”

Because Castiel is nothing special, just some geeky omega, who’s smart, sure, but definitely not worthy of this stunning, brilliant older alpha whose hands feel strong and warm where they caress his shoulders. Whose gaze feels like it can see right through him, and whose scent wraps him in its arms like coming home.

“Pretty omega,” Dean whispers, and Castiel shivers. “Can I hold you?”

And Castiel lets him, lets Dean gather him in his strong arms, one wrapping tight around his narrow waist, the other scooping up between his shoulder blades, and Castiel wraps his own around Dean’s sturdy shoulders. Castiel buries his face in Dean’s neck, right at the joint where his scent is strongest and breathes deeply. He shudders in Dean’s hold, a fresh rush of slick running from him, staining the air with its scent. Dean groans against him, and Castiel decides.

He pushes Dean back gently, then steps away. Dean’s breath quickens as Castiel moves his hands to his boxers. He doesn’t tease, can’t bring himself to draw it out. He pushes his boxers down, slides them down his legs, then steps out of them and drops them with his jeans.

He’s fully hard now, cock just a little too big for an omega, and nothing stops the smell of slick from hanging around like a cloud. Dean is staring, the red bleeding further into his irises. The longer he looks, the more Castiel wants him to touch.

“Alpha?” Castiel asks at last, which breaks the spell. Dean looks up at him, wetting his lips again, before reaching out and stroking Castiel’s cheek.

“Gorgeous,” he says. Castiel blushes.

“Can I see you?” Castiel asks. Dean nods. “Do I need to win another hand?” Dean grins.

“Nah, I’ll give you this one for free.”

Dean shoves off his boxers and wiggles to let them fall to the floor. Castiel can’t help but stare, now, with the alpha’s huge, half-hard cock in front of him. He’s smooth below the belt, trimmed and groomed, but he’s also ram-rod straight and circumcised. The purple head of Dean’s cock is glistening with pre-come, and Castiel feels a rush thinking that it’s because of him, he did that. Dean’s thighs are strong, though his legs taper narrowly to his ankles. A spray of light brown hair is scattered on his legs, along with the freckles that seem to cover his whole body.

In short, he’s beautiful.

“Can I touch you?” Castiel asks. Dean nods. Castiel reaches out and wraps a hand around Dean’s thick shaft.

Dean throws his head back and groans. “Fuck, Cas,” he breathes, reaching out to bring Castiel closer. “Oh, you feel good.”

It’s a little strange, holding a dick that isn’t his own, but Dean doesn’t seem to complain as he strokes it firmly, the same way he would stroke his own. Dean pulls Castiel in by the waist with his other hand in Castiel’s hair and crashes their lips together.

Castiel my have never given a hand job before, or even seen someone else naked that he wasn’t related to, but he’s kissed people before. In fact, shortly after he met up with Hannah in Ion’s basement closet for truth-or-dare, Hannah had told everyone who would listen that Castiel was the best kisser in the whole school (though, he was pretty certain her sample size was quite small).

This, though, is lightning and thunder breaking across his skin, waves crashing on the shore and the proverbial port in a storm. Dean kisses like he’s starving, delving deep into Castiel’s mouth with his tongue, coaxing noises out of Castiel that he didn’t even know he could make. One hand works Dean’s dick, massaging his growing knot, while the other grips onto Dean’s bicep as he holds on for dear life.

On top of that, his scent and Dean’s are swirling around them, mingling and blending into an intoxicating cocktail that goes straight to Castiel’s head. He’s floating by the time Dean pulls back, panting against Castiel’s lips.

“Fuck, baby,” Dean whispers, groaning as Castiel presses his fingertips into Dean’s knot. “F-fuck, lemme touch you,” he slurs, and Castiel barely nods before Dean reaches behind him and dips his fingers into the soaking cleft of his ass. Castiel moans, pressing back against him, urging Dean toward his gushing hole.

“So wet for me,” Dean murmurs, lips brushing Castiel’s before Castiel brings them back together in another searing kiss. Dean circles Castiel’s pucker with two fingers, teasing, before scooping slick and bringing it around to coat Castiel’s cock with it. Castiel whines against Dean’s mouth, but clutches at Dean as the alpha wraps Castiel in the tight, wet tunnel of his hand.

“God, you’re perfect,” Dean groans, pulling back to watch the head of Castiel’s cock disappear into his fist. “Get me wet, too,” he says, and Castiel reaches behind himself to gather up more of his slick. He spreads it over Dean’s cock, and Dean moans at the smooth glide. “Yeah, like that, baby. Gonna make me come.”

“ _Dean_ ,” Castiel whines, thrusting frantically into Dean’s fist.

“Shit, c’mere,” Dean says, pulling Castiel with him to the couch. Dean sits on it first, completely unconcerned that he’s naked, then tugs Castiel into his lap. Castiel presses his lips against Dean’s again, chasing those addicting kisses. Dean reaches between them, grasping both cocks in his large fist, and Castiel’s eyes roll back in his head as he thrusts against the alpha. He watches the head of his own cock pop in and out of the tight circle of Dean’s fist, catching on Dean’s, grinding against the firm knot at the base.

“So hot,” Dean says, and Castiel looks up, expecting him to be watching the same sight. Instead, Dean’s crimson eyes are on Castiel, mouth slack, cheeks flushed, and Castiel kisses him again.

Arousal pools in Castiel’s abdomen, coiling tighter and tighter as he grinds against Dean. Little moans and whimpers escape him as he plunders Dean’s mouth with his tongue, pressing deeper as he humps harder against Dean and into his fist. Dean tears his mouth away to press against Castiel’s ear.

“That’s it, little omega, let go for me. Mmm, you feel so good. Gonna make me come all over you. F-fuck! Gonna mark you up. Everybody’s gonna smell me on you and know—oh, shit!—c’mon, baby, that’s it.”

Castiel pants into Dean’s neck, beyond words, when suddenly something snaps deep inside and he’s coming, hard enough to white out, groaning deep and loud into Dean’s neck as he spurts thin omega come all over Dean’s cock, fist, and stomach. Dean works him through it, then lets him go to pump his own cock. Castiel breathes deep, sucking in their combined scent, looking up into Dean’s face as his cheeks twitch, lower lip caught between his teeth.

“Come for me, alpha,” Castiel breathes, and then Dean is gone, moaning as his cock pumps long ropes of thick white come between them. Dean pants hard, working himself through his orgasm, staring into Castiel’s eyes the whole time.

By the time Dean’s orgasm is finished, they’re both shaking. Dean wraps his free arm around Castiel’s shoulders, pressing their foreheads together.

“Wow,” Cas manages, finally. Dean laughs.

“We should take this to my bedroom,” Dean says. “Don’t want Sammy or, fuck, _Gabriel_ catching us naked on the couch.”

Castiel suddenly bursts out laughing, hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder.

“What?” Dean asks, laughing a little himself.

“I don’t think this is what Gabriel had in mind when he wanted me to get out and have a good time tonight,” Castiel says, still laughing. Dean chuckles.

“Probably not.” He leans in and scents Castiel deeply. “God, you smell good.”

Dean manages to get them and the living room cleaned up enough that they can make their way to Dean’s bedroom. Dean’s bed is basically a nest, piled high with pillows and blankets and all of them soaked in Dean’s alpha scent. Castiel climbs in and rolls around in it, gathering handfuls of blankets and pressing them into his face. He looks up to see Dean’s face in the light from the single candle they’d brought from the living room, gazing softly at him.

“What?” Castiel asks. Dean shakes his head.

“Nothing. Just thinkin’ . . . maybe I ask your dad if I can officially court you.”

A thrill runs through Castiel as he struggles to his knees to throw his arms around Dean and kiss him. “Really?” he asks. Dean leans over and blows out the candle before climbing into bed with Castiel. He arranges the blankets to his satisfaction before gathering Castiel up in his arms and spooning him. Castiel breathes in the scent of _safety_ and _home_.

He’s mostly asleep when he mutters, “He’ll probably want me to finish high school first.”

“Mmm,” Dean sighs. “Wait, what?!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Kudos and comments warm my heart :-) If you guys want to keep up with my bingo fills, subscribe to my ABO Bingo series! For other updates, you can subscribe to me in my profile, or follow me on tumblr at andromachewritesstuff!


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